


together with you

by mikharlow



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Mindless Fluff, more smoochin! can u believe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 16:04:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15440670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikharlow/pseuds/mikharlow
Summary: Just some Alzeph nonsense ft numerous headcanons





	together with you

**Author's Note:**

> "becky this is your third alzeph in four days you havent even finished alfyn's path yet" hm shut the fuck up maybe
> 
> headcanon of alfyn drawing his party members is by @tsubukimac on twitter! its the cutest thing i s2g

Alfyn pulls a strand of grass out from the ground and twirls it between his fingers, smiling as he watches Zeph swing his sword around, clearly inexperienced but enjoying himself nonetheless.

 

“Keep it up and you’ll be better than me in no time.” he says, gaining Zeph’s attention, who lowers the sword and turns to him, panting. 

 

“I doubt that.” he admits, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “I don’t think I could best you in a fight.”

 

Alfyn laughs. “Well, I’ve had more experience.” He spreads his legs out wide in front of him and leans against the tree. 

 

Zeph walks over and collapses beside him, sinking into the ground and dropping the blade in the grass. “And you got training from  _ Olberic Eisenberg. _ ” he says. “I still can’t believe my childhood friend got personal sword training from the Unbending Blade of Hornburg himself.”

 

“Haha, me neither, some days.”

 

Alfyn picks up the large leatherbound book beside him and lays it open on his lap. Page after page is filled with sketches of his old companions — amateur drawings at best, but still, he’s proud of them. He comes to one of Olberic himself, in one of his softer moments, where his jaw wasn’t tensed and his eyes crinkled with the beginnings of a smile. Alfyn remembers drawing it one night in a tavern in Stillsnow, when everyone’s fingers were stiff from cold, but the banter flowed (as did the ale).

 

When he looks up from his work, Zeph has sprawled himself across the grass, his mess of brown hair falling in his eyes. He doesn’t bother to brush it out of his face, but rather just closes his eyes and rests on his side, legs curled up to his chest. The sight of him tugs at Alfyn’s heart, and his fingers go to one of the charcoal pens in his satchel. He flips to a blank sheet, adjusts himself so he has a better angle, and begins to draw.

 

His tongue is between his teeth as his pencil runs across the page. His eyes flit up to his muse, who still lays unaware. His nose twitches as the gentle breeze blows grass into his face, and Alfyn laughs fondly. He does his best to recreate long lashes, softly curled hair, rounded cheeks smattered with freckles (difficult), his fingers quickly becoming smudged grey. When he leans back to view the (mostly) finished product, Zeph cracks open an eye and smiles at him.

 

“What’re you doing?” he asks. His voice is soft, and Alfyn smiles back. 

 

“My best to draw you.” he replies. “It’s not perfect…”

 

Zeph pulls himself up and crawls towards him. He tilts the corner of the sketchbook towards him and hums. “I think it is. It’s beautiful.”

 

Alfyn rests his charcoal-stained hand against Zeph’s cheek, trailing dark grey smudges on his cheekbones in an arc left by his thumb. “It’s nothing compared to you.”

 

He watches as Zeph’s face floods with colour, almost comically, and he slumps forward to bury his face in Alfyn’s chest. “You’re so embarrassing…” he whines.

 

Alfyn tilts up his love’s head by the chin and leaves a kiss right on his dimple. There are few things he loves more than watching Zeph become a flustered, bumbling mess because of him. Although, just as often, Zeph will do the same back to him.

 

Zeph leans in and kisses him, long and slow, the bubbling laughter brewing between them settling down into a warm buzz. When he pulls back, his eyes sparkle, and Alfyn feels just as red as he looks. 

 

“I love you, Alf.” he murmurs against his lips, and he’s Alfyn’s whole world. He bumps their noses together.

 

“Mhm. I love you too.”

 

They stay under that tree, exchanging soft words and kisses, until the sun dips to touch the horizon.


End file.
